


The Way the Idealist Breaks

by Kartaylir



Series: Black Codex: Files Not Found [4]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Typical Mind Control, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, Taris (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-24 10:42:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21098159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kartaylir/pseuds/Kartaylir
Summary: Cipher Nine expected Chance would use the codeword eventually. That doesn't stop her from disappointment when he does.





	The Way the Idealist Breaks

Cipher Nine's thoughts were caught in a constant jumbled after her first meeting with Ardun Kothe. Even her assigned task could not pull her mind completely from them; from wondering what, when, and why this had been implanted her mind.

She didn't yet dare ask herself how. Better to use Ki Sazen's cult as distraction.

And yet whenever she found herself truly alone she would stare down at her hands in disbelief. It was easier to blame them for this betrayal. To blame anything she might be able to hurt.

Once, she'd called up Vector in desperation and found that there was nothing at all she could say.

But, she had a task to attend to. Ardun Kothe had handed her off to his minions, to Chance and Hunter and all the rest. The Republic spymaster seemed to have little taste for more dirt, more blood, resting directly on his hands. 

Before he sent her off he'd asked if the Chiss had taught her honor. She etched lines into her palms every time she thought of it, hints of blood bright against the blue of her skin. He dared to speak of the Chiss to her?

It was so strange to think she'd once believed there to be a limit to the Republic's arrogance.

For the Chiss had taught her of duty ere they'd sent her to the Empire's service. Of prices that must be paid.

And then the Sith had taught her of death.

Only one of those lessons was one she would pass on to Ardun Kothe.

Soon. Once she was no longer walled up in her head, when hands and voice no longer responded without her will to the orders of another. When she'd washed the Nikto cult from her hands, and considered a thousand more questions she would not ask of Doctor Lokin. She could not help but wonder how much he had already guessed, what slivers of knowledge he'd pressed together into some form of a whole.

She was watching the movements of Nikto and Rakghouls across the ruined landscape when the call came. The faded blue image of Agent Chance sent to her holocomm, his chest and stomach clearly mauled, his voice garbled by panic. Almost enough to keep the codeword from coming through. Almost.

In truth she'd expected him to use it earlier, for whatever moral resolve he pretended toward to break. Chance was the youngest of the group, and his idealism had not yet been twisted in the same way as the rest. It was brittle in way that could shatter oh so easily.

Legate, _the Cipher_, did not wish to be caught by such shards while she still struggled to maintain her sense of self. It seemed better to pander toward their desires of control.

And yet it was so easy to desire that she could abandon Chance, leave him to rot despite the questions it might prompt from the others. She had no need for them to tighten the chains around her. To lose any belief that her defection was genuine.

Such did little to reduce the futile temptation, and it tore at her thoughts as she traveled.

That part at least went swiftly. The ruins of ships and buildings that covered Taris had grown familiar over time. All rusted metal and the slow twist of greenery up ruined walls, while the stench of rotten meat never faded. They'd all had their injections; if Chance had any luck his resistance to the Rakghoul plague would still hold.

If not his, his death would be quick, for that at least she could still guarantee. A thanks for his hesitance to control her. Vengeance for the fact he had finally succumbed.

His face had gone pale by the time she arrived, all traces of youthful roundness gone beneath the gauntness his wounds had summoned. Blood stained the ground beneath to a crimson that dried to rust at the edges. It seeped around the hands he held to his chest, and cared little for what pressure he applied. Even that was slowly fading, weakened in turn with the pattern of his heartbeat.

"You came," Chance said, as if he hadn't quite believed in it. "I wanted to be sure. I'm sorry."

That brought her a sudden surge of anger. As if any apology could be adequate to what they had done.

"I don't want to die. Codeword Onoma—" His breathing faded to a whisper, and his head slumped forward. He'd grown too quiet to order her any longer.

Still the prospect of leaving him there tempted her. It seemed a proper punishment for his self-delusion. That she might be harmed for it, well, was that such a price to pay for a moment of control?

She wrapped her hands around his neck, and knew it would be so easy. And yet she did not squeeze. Did not even leave bruises on his feeble throat.

Instead she drew out her small medpack, pulled his limp hands from the wounds and covered them with Kolto. They were deep and ugly enough that he'd not have lasted much longer. It would not have been hard to pretend she'd not been able to save him. Until they asked properly, of course.

_They'll trust me now_, she thought to herself, and it was only half a lie.

The rest was simple. A call for extraction, a few minutes of attention to clear out all nearby beasts. Once Chance was picked up she could return to her task.

To destroy a Jedi, even one as fallen as Ki Sazen, might bring some small solace with it. It was no unusual assignment for her talents, and the Cipher could not help but wonder just what Ardun Kothe had seen of her file. Of the rumors as well as records.

It did not take long, as such things went. Sharp words and sharper weapons. Ki Sazen was as consumed by her own ego as the darkest of the Sith, though it showed little on what remained of her corpse.

And so one world was left behind, unmourned by the Cipher. She stared at the reflection of her crimson eyes as her ship hummed beneath her.

Another message then. Chance's gratitude wrapped up in apology and offer. A life; a drink.

She slammed a bottle against the wall and it did not break. Unfortunate, by her reckoning. Shattered edges would be easier. A moment of impulse and—

And Ardun Kothe had only ordered her not to hurt _them_.


End file.
